Dabbling in Gratuitous Merlin-Myths
by Fairytale Warrior
Summary: "It seems, Merlin, that you've been keeping things from me." The prince of Camelot declares him to be useless, as a man subject under the spell of so many secrets ought to given his performances as a servant. But Merlin's "uselessness" ends right there and Arthur may begin to see what's on the other side of the coin. (Rating may vary) T for: cursing and violence, heavy whump.
1. This Is How You Read

-Dabbling in Gratuitous Merlin-Myths-

_Synopsis: The prince of Camelot declares him to be useless, as a man subject under the spell of so many secrets ought to given his performances as a servant. But Merlin's "uselessness" ends right there and Arthur may begin to see what's on the other side of the coin. (May become a slightly AU reveal-fic)_

_Rating: K+_

* * *

_I have yet to properly decide what season I want this to orbit around but I'm thinking it will be throughout seasons 3 and 4, much of it may be in the year that separates the two. (completely forgetting about season 5 for now.) I'll do my best to keep everyone in character for these chapters but feel free to let me know if you find something is off. Keep in mind that this is oodles of cannon and nothing more, focusing on Merlin's interactions with the world and the talents he has that don't _need _to be kept hidden but just sort of do. I am going to fiddle with things so at some point things will change and take a few steps away from the true plot of BBC Merlin, but I hope to maybe set it back on track. It won't go far, I can assure you that._

_I further apologize for any historical mistakes I may make throughout this, my knowledge of the medieval era is very small and I have to do extensive research for each chapter. _

_If you have any ideas feel free to bounce them off of me as well, though I can't promise I'll always be able to write them out._

_That said this is supposed to become something of a drabble series, though I have no idea how long it will be. I hope it is enjoyed. :)_

_Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Merlin._

XXXX

-Chapter 1—

This is How You Read

"_There is only one thing for it then - to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing, which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn."_

It's not quite that Arthur finds his job as a Prince hard, per se, just as everything else it has its good moments and its bad ones. But there are times just like this that make him want to flip his desk over in a fit of un-princely frustration and throw himself out the window to spare himself the agony of _this_.

Sitting in his chambers at gods-knows-_what_ hour of the night leaning over a much too prolific and sagely written tome, the young prince found himself struggling. He sat at this desk every night putting together and reviewing reports, among various other things, and he was quite sure he'd had to endure more arduous situations before.

Right?

But then he read the next sentence and very nearly threw the book Gaius had lent him right at Merlin, who was busy polishing his armor by the table. Wasn't this supposed to be a book on _medicine?! _Why the hell is it suddenly talking about the _Copernican Heavens?! _

Instead he simply clapped the tome closed, dropped it in a heap upon the table, and turned away as his servant looked up at him from across the room, surprise brightening his eyes. With his chin resting upon a fist and a tight scowl on his face Merlin needed no explanation for the sudden, rather furious behavior.

The servant's eyes fell across the rejected tome with something akin to sympathy, his deft fingers still scrubbing at the pauldron in his hands. That ancient tome was something Gaius had also made Merlin read and it was only a few months ago that he'd managed to finish the damned thing. It was an admittedly difficult tome to work through once you reached a certain point in the dusty heap of knowledge and in the end he'd found it horribly boring despite learning several very interesting things throughout his struggle.

Merlin liked to learn, the world was so vast and he was so small and there was so much one could do with knowledge should it be used correctly. Yet, philosophical mumblings and the great history of war didn't usually interest him, both were far too simple and far too brutish for his tastes- although, it would probably be more suitable if he described the former as "indelicately complex".

It likely didn't help Arthur that the book he was reading dropped sublimely hidden hints of magic and how it was used to heal the sick and wounded. Hints that only a magician could understand.

Merlin tried not to think about how close his prince was to one of many wonderful characteristics magic held and how oblivious he was to it.

"Has something caught your eye _Mer_lin?" Arthur's voice finally sounded from across the room and his servant paused, blinking several times as though it would help dispel his troubled thoughts.

"Not at all, sire," he replied and turned back to his work. The blond-haired prince frowned at him but after a moment's though wrote the behavior off as simple exhaustion. Turning in his seat he spared a glance at the moon and promptly sighed loudly; it was just past midnight and Pelagius of Asturias would be arriving tomorrow.

Speaking of which…

Leaning across the table with an impatient huff he grabbed another book, this one a literature piece on Christianity. He'd been reading it over the course of the last few days in preparation of the worldly king's visit and at the very least he'd found it was not nearly as aggravating as Gaius's medical book.

Being a Christian himself he'd supposed that it would be rather easy to understand and it was, sort of. The book took upon itself an in depth analysis on the evils of magic and why any and all who wielded it were to be damned to hell, with a touch of deep Christianity here and there. Unlike his father's preaching's, however, this thing went into detail of how magic worked. Not a lot, just enough to make the _very _educated prince of Camelot cringe in confusion.

What even did half these words _mean_?

Time passed between servant and master for several minutes like this; Arthur scowling and flipping pages every so often and Merlin moving on to a dirty vambrace.

"I take it you're not enjoying Adrain's take on Christianity either then?" Merlin's voice echoed throughout the expansive room with a touch of amusement to it that made his master's glower turn even darker. It was then the prince realized he must have been making faces because when he set the book down to retort the raven haired manservant was grinning.

"At least you don't have to impress religiously obsessed kings coming for a visit," he shot back and then sighed, wincing a little at the ache in his sore muscles, "your life must be _so _easy, Merlin."

He missed the barely perceptible twitch and discouraging flash through his not-friend's eyes. Merlin rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck from side to side, "well, yes, actually, I do Arthur. Everything you have to know about King Pelagius I also have to know," he turned to his slave-driving master with a quirked eyebrow, "or did you _forget _that as well?"

It was not unknown to him that the whole reason Arthur was forced into this pile of learning was because his father wanted him to brush up his knowledge, worried that his son would insult their guest should he have forgotten the tiniest detail of their shared religion.

But it was late and he'd had a long day, a _very _long day. Both servant and master had been up since before dawn and for Merlin the day had started even earlier when he'd been told to gather herbs for the resident physician he was living with. Merlin was sore, tired, and hungry, but he couldn't even eat until Arthur let him go.

Which didn't look like it was likely to happen anytime soon with the prince's face set in such a way. A tired, wrath-filled scowl sat upon his features, wrinkling his brow and crinking the bridge of his nose. But then, suddenly, it all disappeared and a suspiciously warm smile touched his handsome features.

Oh no, that wasn't a good transition.

"Look at me, sitting comfortably here and lazing about with a good book, how selfish of me," Merlin watched with a growing sense of horror as his master rose out of his chair and stepped aside, pulling the furniture out and looking at his servant with a gleam in his eye, "please, you must be tired. Why don't you take a seat and read a little?"

It wasn't that Merlin didn't _like _reading, far from it, it was just that he didn't like reading religious books of any kind- _especially _Christianity. Those things hated him as much as Uther did and they always went a few leagues too far in explaining why they hated him and what they would do to him if he was ever discovered.

It was disgusting, really.

"Um, I don-" he began to protest, looking from the open chair to the smug prince.

"Oh, don't worry about it being any trouble, Merlin. After all, _I've _got the easy part," Arthur insisted, coming up beside his servant and grabbing his shoulders.

Merlin wondered if now was a good time to claim that he was an atheist.

He didn't get very far into that thought, however, before he was pushed into the chair and his prince was shoving the book towards him. Then the royal brat stood off to the side with his arms crossed and an expectant, as well as pleased, expression on his face. Seeing that what was to follow was unavoidable he gave in. With an undisguised grimace, Merlin opened the smaller book to its marker and began to read.

He'd already read this book, had to before giving it to Arthur, so it wasn't a challenge to understand any of the words. And perhaps that was what made it so horrible.

The prince was half-way through the worst chapter, the one damning all magic users to hell via fire, drawing and quartering, beheading, beatings, and so on. This was all regardless of age. It made him nauseous to think that there were those who starved and whipped and placed crushing weights little by little on sorcerer's chests until their bones broke and they stopped breathing.

Arthur watched his face intently, not wanting to let a single muscle twitch go unnoticed. But it was a little hard, seeing as how Merlin's face was set to neutral and no decipherable emotion could be found anywhere. He simply read the passage indicated to him, then the page, then the next page, and the next and Arthur was beginning to wonder when Merlin's face never changed. At least, until he caught a glimpse of emotion he'd been previously missing in his not-friend's eye.

Finally the book was set down, chapter finished, and his servant looked up at him, "and?" A look of forced disinterest crossed the man's face, catching the elder off guard.

He shifted from one foot to the other, and looked at his servant, speechless for a few moments, "oh, don't tell me you actually _understand _that!" The disbelief was left unhindered in his voice.

"It's not _that _hard when you're living with a physician, you know," his servant rebuffed, but there was a new, indescribable air about him that unsettled the prince. "Besides, I've already read it."

Arthur shook his head and grabbed the book, flipping to a random page, "fine, then tell me what this means then," he said and pointed to a line on the page. Surely Merlin must be lying, how could a _peasant _be smarter than _him?_

He handed it back to Merlin and the raven-haired teen looked down, finally raising an eyebrow, "'_The reason human beings do not know the future is not that it is not there to be known, but that we are not in a position to witness it.' _That line?"

"_Yes_, Merlin, _that _line," came the exasperated, almost impatient, reply.

Like a spark shooting off of flint-stone an idea lit up in Merlin's head, a nice, petty form of payback if you will.

"Well, to put it in technical terms, temporal distinctions have epistemological or psychological, but not ontological, reference. It's completely logical, if you're religious at all." That said Merlin set the book down on the table and stood up. Giving Arthur a 'respectful' head-bob and dismissing himself. He'd already finished with all his other chores, the armor was the last of them so he snagged the polished pieces on his way out so he could return them to their proper place in the armory.

Completely baffled the blond watched his servant cross the room, grab the shined pieces, and leave.

Merlin wasn't a complete idiot, he knew, despite how often he told him he was. But this display was definitely _not _expected- and from a _peasant! _Where- _how _had he learned if he didn't have any access to books in Ealdor? Arthur certainly didn't remember seeing any.

He made a mental side note to overload his servant with work for the next few weeks, giving himself a new personal goal to make the servant's life a living hell.

From then on Merlin was just a little more cautious about how he displayed his intelligence.

XXXX

_The next installment comes whenever I'll next have time. Throw me any critiques you have, I'd love to hear any of them._

_Thanks for reading!_

_Cheers!_

-_FT_


	2. Bedeck the Noise

_Rating: _K

_Summary: A working hymn for the fallen._

_Thanks for all the views/visits!_

_Disclaimer: at the bottom_

-Chapter 2—

Bedeck the Noise

No-one had ever really given it much thought before so, outside of Gaius, no-one really knew he could do it. And it wasn't really like they needed to either, his talent didn't help anyone with anything at all. Aside from the occasional banquet- which he would refuse with all hell hath and fury to perform for- this particular skill was good for just about nothing. Besides, if Arthur knew about it he'd no doubt label Merlin a girl for sure and right now the usually patient manservant wasn't sure if he could put up with that.

Still, Merlin found himself enjoying it when he could, taking comfort in the way it could take his mind off the rest of the world and the troubles plaguing it. His voice offered him a kind of outlet for his quandaries, though he didn't often sing despite the reprieve it brought.

Troubles of all forms run rampant in his head as he sat nestled into the corner of a window seat, sulkily watching the rain fall with careless abandon outside the castle's protection. It came in a thick, unforgiving downpour free to immediately drench any poor soul brave enough to step out beneath it.

A somber mood filled the castle; a dark, depressing air hanging around everyone's heads. The rain had an infectious effect on the people of Camelot and left many- save the servants- with very little to do.

Prince Arthur among them.

When he wasn't in meetings he was attempting to occupy himself with teasing his manservant, piling chore after chore upon him and continuing to neglect the large tome of medical knowledge Gaius had provided him with a month or so ago. Both physician and apprentice were sure the prince would never actually come close to finishing it, even after Merlin's display of intelligence that night before King Pelagius's arrival.

A mistake the raven haired youth was sure to never make again. By the end of the first week he was waking up in the morning almost entirely immobile due to the stiffness of his limbs and more than once he'd wake up in bed with no recollection of how or when he'd gotten there at all. Gaius told him it was the closest thing he may have seen to the living dead, watching Merlin come home, silently eat dinner with no apparent awareness of his guardian's presence and proceed then to his bed without a single word spoken.

Arthur's unruly behavior today was in part due to his restlessness, having planned a hunt that the storm unwittingly canceled. But as pleased as Merlin was about that he still found himself with an obnoxiously abundant list of things that needed to be done.

Lately, a sickness had begun passing around, infecting servants and peasants, nobles alike. Nothing magical, thankfully, just a very nasty flu virus that Gaius was struggling to overtake.

The abundant absence of servants left the castle short of a few hands and that meant people such as Merlin and Gwen were passed around to other chores, taking on double, even triple shifts.

For the warlock this included helping Gaius, babysitting Arthur-as usual-, caring for the other horses as a temporary stable-hand, mending and polishing _way _more armor than usual, washing dishes alongside Gwen, and then caring for several visiting nobles. So, unfortunately for Arthur, Merlin was not with him long enough to tease or rile up. Frankly, even if he was there long enough the manservant was way too tired and way too accustomed to the jibes to react to them.

A jaw cracking yawn erupted from the man's mouth and he withheld a groan, nodding a slow greeting to another servant scurrying by. The younger boy gave him a glare in return, thinking the prince's drudge to be slacking off. In all truth Merlin had actually been given a brief break by the kitchen lady, Beatrice, worried that he'd collapse right into her freshly cooked delicacies again. Gwen had personally escorted him out the kitchen and told him to come back when he felt better. It had been Merlin's intention to simply carry on with his chores from there but after a particularly dangerous dizzy spell at the top of the stairs even he had to admit that it was time for a break.

With a low sigh he leaned his head against the glass window pane and closed his eyes, listening to the splatter of raindrops against the flagstones for a few peaceable moments.

2 years ago today his best friend died.

The realization had hit him like a fist to the face when he woke this morning and he was struck by the desire to go home and perform the traditional memorial the people of Ealdor held for the dead.

He'd been thinking about it all day and it occurred to him that until he did _something _he wasn't going to be left in peace.

So with a quick glance around, wanting to be sure he was left alone, he cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

"_Home is behind, the world ahead," _he sang softly. His voice felt warm in his throat and a sense of somber tranquility began to form in his chest. Lowering his eyelids halfway the darkened silhouette that he had become against the rain stared into the distance, cobalt blue filled with distant memories.

"_And there are many paths to tread. _

_Through shadow,_

_To the edge of night,_

_Until the stars are all aligned."_

The simple serf with a beautiful, surprisingly melodic voice closed his eyes wearily and remembered a time when this promise was made. He took a breath and steadied himself before continuing.

"_Mist and shadow._

_Cloud and shade."_

Another brief pause and he opened his eyes once more, the rain silver in the moonlight. Memories of childhood; laughing in the summer afternoons, playful magic in disarray, fireflies on their faces and embers popping in the night. Racing to the river when the crops had been tended, only to push and drag each other in, laughing and howling gleefully.

"_All shall fade."_

The smell of smoke and wheat in the fall. The whistle of an arrow, his mother baking a pie. Thieving little fingers blamed on fae folk, goblins, and brownies. Memories of troll hunting, of lost bets, toppling trees and angry old men. An old, loyal friendship, ended with an arrow.

"_All shall fade."_

The song slowly dropped off his tongue, resounding down the corridor like the fading notes to a minstrel's lute. But, unlike the lute this echo was lonely and spoke of a missing piece. It made Merlin frown and curse the rain, curse his exhaustion, the sickness, and, above all, destiny itself.

"_You'll perform a song of passing for me when I die, won't you Merlin?_" Will had asked so long ago with a teasing note and mirth flickering in his eyes.

"Sorry Will," he murmured tiredly, the promise he'd made painful and heavy in his chest, "maybe I'll be able to see you off next year."

It was some time before Merlin realized he was still staring off into space and that his chores needed to be completed. Shaking his head and yawning one more time he carefully picked himself off the window sill, cracking his aching limbs. For whatever silly reason he had the sense that he was being watched and that by moving away from his perch he was leaving something behind. But the more logical part of his brain wrote it off as a combination of the gloom and exhaustion. This while a piece of his heart grieved weighted with guilt.

He looked back over his shoulder as he traversed the length of the hall, just before the corner, and watched the empty sill for just a moment longer. Then he vanished, tendrils of a side note to, once again, ask for a day off lingering almost tangibly in the air.

XXXX

As depressing as it all had probably seemed, Merlin _had _felt better after singing and, making up Lord Alrundel's bed, he wondered once again why he did it so little. The short song was the best he could offer his deceased friend right now, and although Will's grave was far away the people of Ealdor firmly believed; if a hymn for the dead was sung, they would hear it regardless of how far away it was.

He could at least take comfort in that much.

Arthur, however, was a different case.

"It seems, _Mer_lin, that you've been keeping things from me," he'd said and for a few heart stopping moments he thought the prince had finally found him out. Seeing the look of terror on his servant's face, Arthur almost smirked.

"I have?" he asked, struggling to wet his suddenly dry throat.

"Yes, you have. Or do you simply think that a window pane makes for a better audience than royalty?" The relief that hit him was so strong Merlin feared his knees might give out on him, _Lords _he was _way _too tired to deal with something like that.

"What do you mean?" his voice came out with the perfect note of innocence to it, face reforming to an expression of confusion when the blond turned around. Arthur's mouth was open but the words caught in his throat; tranquil, energized blue staring into deep, bedraggled cobalt for a few steady heartbeats. Suddenly feeling inexplicably self-conscious, Merlin turned away, back to the clothes he was sluggishly attempting to fold. At this rate he'd be done with the task by sunrise.

A few paces away the prince watched from his bed, observing his servant for a moment before sighing in acquiesce. He made his way over to his servant and set a hand down on the other end of the table, trying to catch Merlin's gaze and failing miserably.

Finally, he asked, "okay, _what_ is wrong with you?"

Reaching for the next shirt his manservant replied too seamlessly, "Nothing." Arthur scowled darkly at him so he continued before the concerned man could threaten him with a round on the training grounds again, "nothing other than the fact that I've been working all day," and before Arthur could tease him for it, "better than stalking people trying to take a break in the corridors though." Merlin had to clench his jaw to prevent another yawn from breaking forth. Lords, he'd woken up almost a full six hours before the sun even _touched _the horizon. Now, the moon was only minutes away from its peak and he was _still working._

He waited for Arthur to say something in return and when he didn't the drudge set down a sloppily folded pair of trousers and looked at him curiously, a hint of his own concern tainting the level of irritation swimming in his eyes.

"This is the part where you tell me I'm a girl and make allegories to traveling minstrels or lilting ladies or-" he searched for something else offensive, looking around the room as though the answer was written somewhere on the bedposts or dresser. Unable to really come up with something he pursed his lips together and gave a small, helpless headshake, "a drunken barmaid or something."

Turning before Arthur could respond he dumped the folded clothes into the basket and walked away from the table. The guy had been a pain all day, even if he had a little bit of decency to show concern Merlin was just too tired to deal with it today. Talking about Will sounded exhausting right now and standing had become a cruel chore to his aching knees. He should leave before he said something he regretted.

"I've offended you." It wasn't a question and it caught Merlin off guard, in the middle of setting the clean clothes where they belonged and gathering up the dirty ones.

He didn't respond for a while. What was he to say- that he was upset the prince had stumbled upon him brooding aloud, during such a private moment when he'd made it blatantly obvious to Merlin _during Will's funeral _that he disapproved of the man?

He needed to hurry up and leave.

"Merlin-"

"It's nothing, Arthur." The raven haired manservant turned to his master, tired eyes examining Arthur's. He didn't bother hiding the irritation in his own at this point. And to think, if Arthur could stay as oblivious of the rest of Merlin's talents as he did to magic he may have already gotten started washing by now.

Leave, damn it.

The prince grimaced, "was it when I made you go back and get me a different breakfast three times this morning?" When Merlin's rebuttal was continued silence, he leaned back against the table and continued, "no person with nothing wrong sounds like that, _Mer_lin."

Merlin couldn't help himself, he was tired, he was irritable, his stomach ached with emptiness and every limb fought for nothing but reprieve. Right now the only thing keeping him from a soft bed and a waiting meal was Arthur's concern and his endless list of chores.

"As though a prince would care." he snapped, instantly regretting the words once they'd left his lips.

So much for leaving.

The prince's gaze turned into something _almost _hurt, ripe with surprise. Before he could say anything Merlin was ducking his head, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm just really tired right now Arthur, I don't have the energy."

Arthur didn't seem to doubt that but for several moments he seemed very conflicted, wanting to discover what was wrong but at the same time realizing he was only doing more harm than good.

"Fine," he sighed, "but at least answer me this; who was the song for?"

Merlin feigned confusion, "what makes you think-"

"I know a hymn for the dead when I hear one, _Mer_lin," Arthur insisted with a touch of exasperation.

He paused, unsure if he should tell Arthur when he thought Will had been a sorcerer.

"If you don't tell me, I won't let you leave."

Merlin sighed in defeat, "it was for Will."

For a few moments Arthur simply looked at him, judging the explanation as though he thought his drudge was lying. Finally he sighed.

"Of course," he bobbed his head down just a little, gaze away from Merlin and the manservant thought that the prince may be preparing himself for something.

"You don't have to apologize, it wasn't your fault." Arthur's eyes snapped back to the serf and he almost smirked.

"You _really are_ a pompous _fool_, aren't you Merlin?" he cried out after a few awkward, scrambling heartbeats, hoping to cover up his embarrassment, "What makes you think I was going to _apologize?_" then he waved a hand towards the door, "Now get out of here before you break something, you're bad enough when you're _not _tired."

An exhausted smile managed to claw its way onto Merlin's face and he reached for the basket by his feet, intending to wash the clothes and then carry out the remainder of his chores outside the room.

A tired mind is a cruel, cruel thing to a man.

Thankfully, Arthur is not, and he swipes the basket away from his servant before he can make an escape, "leave it," and when Merlin opens his mouth he says, "and don't come in tomorrow either."

For a very long time all the servant can do is stare at the man, wrestling with the words and trying desperately to understand what just happened.

"Are you," a blond eyebrow rises, "are you _actually _giving me a _day off_?" Then he looks skeptical, "are you sure you-"

An unprincely huff escapes the royal man and he stands abruptly, grabbing Merlin's shoulders and steering him towards the door, "yes, now go away. Don't come back tomorrow or I'll put you in the stocks." With his manservant out the room he slams the door shut a little louder than intended and waits for the sound of reverberating footsteps leading away from his chambers. It takes a while but finally Merlin walks away and as the sound of his boots hitting the stone floor fade, Arthur thinks of his servant.

Merlin is a puzzle trying to be put together in the dark and sometimes the prince feels like more than half the pieces are missing.

XXXX

_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own BBC Merlin, nor Pippin's (Billy Boyd) song from Lord Of The Rings_

_I couldn't help myself guys. ;_; It's such an awesome song._

_Lords, this chapter killed me. It sounds stupidly romantic and girly I am absolutely _hating _that right now. I'll make the next one more manly. _

_Cheers!_

_-FT _


	3. Physician's Apprentice

XXXX

_Rating: _K

_Summary: Arthur hasn't seen Merlin since last week. _

_Disclaimer: Don't own._

-Chapter 3—

Physician's Apprentice

The flu was a nasty thing and it didn't discriminate. Old or young, rich or poor, it attacked anyone who was not properly prepared for it.

Anyone included the king's son.

It hit Arthur so badly that Gaius himself refused to allow the crowned prince to leave his chambers, confining him to a close and safer proximity for what had been a very blurry week. The physician had sworn to Uther up and down just yesterday that the life threatening part had passed and it was time for him to _get some bloody rest. _

Just because the prince had recovered, however, didn't mean the rest of the illed household and city could share his success. This meant that soon Gaius would have to swap places with a spare healer in the lower town. For today, however, he'd been left in the elder man's care, watching him work when he was awake and sharing a pleasant conversation with him throughout these periods. He hadn't expected the flu to hit him so hard but then again, it probably hadn't been a very wise decision on his part to train out in the rain either.

The rain that had continued since Merlin's mysterious hymn last week without a moment of stopping. If Arthur didn't know better he'd say someone had cast some sort of spell over Camelot.

Willing the world around him to stop spinning, Arthur sighed and pressed a sweaty, quivery palm to the side of his head. His throat felt lumpy with bile and the room near reeked of his sickness, so much so that Gaius had opened a few windows and began burning something sweet.

"Sire," the weathered voice of said physician sounded beside him, weary in a way that had nothing to do with the limited labor of the day. In fact, the entirety of these past few sunrises had been spent beside Arthur, leaving another to do the work where Gaius could not.

Cracking open his eyes, the young Pendragon gazed up at the old man, watching the vile he held in his hands as though he thought it would reach down and bite him. Setting the _taste_ of these vile concoctions aside Arthur had spent the better part of his entire week asleep. After so much time he really would rather not be put under again by the worried elder's sleeping drafts. Hell, at this point he'd be happy to read that enormous, gratuitously confusing excuse of a medical tome Gaius had given him if it meant he could stay awake longer than five minutes.

A small smile spread across Gaius' lips, "relax, sire, this is a simple headache tonic. It does not taste as abhorrent as it appears."

Carefully pushing himself up, with a little help from the physician, Arthur grunted doubtfully, "yeah, I'm sure it doesn't Gaius." His voice was scratchy and his shoulders ached terribly, but both comparatively small nuisances had dulled beside the strength of his oncoming migraine. Grateful, he took the vile anyway and, clamping his fingers over his nose he downed the concoction with a grimace. Trying not to smack his lips he handed the empty bottle back to its owner and leaned back into the pillows.

Lord, he missed his bed.

How could patients stay _comfortable _on this thing? It was lumpy and hard against his body, surely Arthur would be getting off far more sore than he had before he was sick. As much as he wanted to, though, he did his best not to complain about it. At least, not to Gaius; he was grateful the older man had remained by his side this whole past week and knew better than to whine to the aged man.

Which was better than he could say for Merlin, who he'd not seen hide nor hair of.

Well, save this morning. But that had been narrowed down to Merlin throwing himself down the stairs of his room at some early hour, grabbing a few things he couldn't quite make out in the dark, and a piece of bread before running out the door with the follow greeting to his prince; "Hey Arthur, howyoufeeling?That'sniceArthur,hopeyoufeelbetterAr thur,bye!" Then the door had closed behind him, leaving him blinking in the dark with only the sound of Gaius snoring to keep him company.

He bit his lip and shifted a little when Gaius had turned away, thankful when his headache at least began to ebb.

"How are you feeling, sire?" he asked patiently and Arthur wondered, for one strange, delirious moment, if the old man had somehow read his mind.

"Fine," the old man raised The Eyebrow at him and prince or no he was treated to a dubious glare, "much better Gaius, thank you," he amended as quickly as his weakened voice could manage.

The physician nodded after a moment, as though doubting his patient's honesty.

"I am glad to hear of it. Let me know if there is anything else you need, sire," he finally replied. With that the older man turned away again, moving towards a table swamped with herbs and poultices to resume making remedies for the rest of the ill. Arthur knew that despite his apparent focus on the task at hand, there was still half an eyeball metaphorically turned in his direction, just in case he was lying.

But really, what kind of idiot would lie about their health when in such a state?

"Gaius, do you know where my _useless waste_ of a manservant has gone off to recently?" the old man stopped momentarily, grinding herbs beneath his pestle before slowly turning to his prince with a raised eyebrow. Arthur suddenly scoffed before his physician could respond, coming to his own promising conclusion as he realized the present time: late midnight, early morning of the next day to be more specific. The sleeping draft he'd been given earlier must have finally worn off. "Given the time, he's probably in the tavern right now."

As though he'd been waiting right outside the chamber doors for the perfect moment to waltz in, Merlin quietly pulled his haggard body into the sweet-smelling room with a sloshing sound and a tired groan.

"Mm 'ack," he mumbled in what sounded suspiciously like "I'm back." Arthur looked his servant up and down with a dubious eyebrow raised. He was positively soaked through, a large puddle quickly gathering beneath his feet and making his already rather dark clothing transform into gloomy shades of black, save for the crimson neckerchief. His face was pale and drooping with exhaustion, reminding the prince of an ancient willow tree and the lines on his face made only more prominent by the flickering candlelight. Draped over Merlin's left hip, swung over from his right shoulder, rested Gaius' favorite medicine bag, dripping water over the floor.

Now Gaius had to carefully turn his way towards the door, his expression of guilt and concern at seeing his ward hidden away from the prince but obvious in the way his shoulders went stiff.

"Merlin!" he cried out and, as his ward shuffled into the room with squelching boots, hurried to a small, worn wardrobe about a foot or so away from Arthur. While the prince watched his dazed manservant the old man tore a towel from inside and turned to the dripping man. "Here, take this and dry yourself off. Once you've changed come out and sit by the fire until you've warmed up." Merlin opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Gaius gave him The Eyebrow and the words died on his lips.

Already beside the fire himself Arthur watched his servant scurry up to his room to change, saying nothing. When Merlin emerged from his chambers a few moments later, dried and seemingly more aware, if a little tipsy, he decided to speak up.

"So _Mer_lin, had enough to drink yet?"

The look of pure, unadulterated _confusion _that spread across his servant's face made Arthur wonder if he'd suddenly spoken in a different language.

"I-well-ther-," he paused, trying to process what had been said before finally shaking his head quickly and saying, "what?" Recognition suddenly burst across his face and he snapped his gaze to a chagrined looking Gaius, "did you tell him I was at the _tavern_?!"

"He came to that conclusion on his own, Merlin," the old man admitted and if his hands weren't covered in paste Arthur thought he may have lifted them in a form of peace. He did however wave a hand towards the hearth, "now stop accusing me of things so quickly and warm yourself up already- oh, and grab a blanket for yourself."

"There aren't any left," still, Merlin turned around and headed back to his room, "I'll see if I can find something else."

While he was gone, Arthur turned his attention back to Gaius, "so he _wasn't _at the Tavern." Gaius shook his head, "then where the hell _was_ that idiot?"

"I can hear you!" Merlin called, voice muffled somewhat from the other room.

"Oh very good, nice to your not deaf as well as dumb," the prince didn't even need to raise his tone- not that he could even if he wanted to.

Merlin stumbled down the steps with a green cloak wrapped around his shoulders, giving his bedridden prince a fitting glare. For once the witty manservant didn't seem to have anything to say in retort as he settled himself down by the fire.

"_Oh?!_" Arthur's eyes seemed to light up a little bit, sickly pale face opening to one of teasing mirth, "are you finally out of insults, _Merlin_? And you still haven't answered my question, either."

For a moment all his manservant did was scrutinize his prince, "yes, brilliant deduction Arthur," he said at last, "just give me a moment, I'll go and inform the court of your newest, ingenious observation." Then before the prince could retort he turned to Gaius, "are there any more sleeping drafts left? I used the rest of what I had today in the lower town. We also need more anise, mint- anything else I should fetch tomorrow morning?"

"I'll need to make some more," Gaius looked at his ward for a moment and Arthur began to wonder if the old man would simply tell Merlin to leave it be. But then he looked at his bedridden prince and something almost like submission loosened his features. The silver haired elder turned his gaze to the table before him, analyzing what he had and what he needed.

"We also need more chamomile and as much milk thistle as you can possibly find."

At this Merlin nodded his head, saying nothing and curling up a little more into his cloak, scooting closer to the fire. From the corner of his eye Arthur could see Gaius purse his lips together.

"Merlin-"

"I'll prepare supper once I'm warmed up, of course." Arthur was suddenly beginning to feel like a shadow on the wall when Merlin's gaze fell to him, "will chicken soup do for tonight, _sire?_" The man's gaze seemed covered by a thin filmy substance in this light but the blond couldn't see clear enough to tell, and Merlin's constant blinking didn't make it any easier either.

Arthur very much wanted to tell his servant that no, chicken soup would _not _do just so he could force the poor serf to what he deemed to be _actual _work but at the moment, that soup sounded fantastic.

Something suddenly clicked in the prince's head.

"Hold on, _you're _Gaius' spare healer?" he sputtered in an un-princely manner.

Merlin was now huddled up a comfortable distance from the hearth, wrapped in his green cloak and looking ready to nod off; eye's closed, head bowed, and face lax.

"And yet another _brilliant _deduction from our prince," he stated tonelessly, "oh, what _will _he discover next?" And a massive yawn broke the extended silence that fell between them. "-oh come on, are you really _that _surprised Arthur?!"

But he was.

He was really _that _surprised that foolish, bumbling _Merlin _knew _anything _about medicine, much less be capable of wrestling with an epidemic on his own. Religion was one thing, that was all opinionated and fairly easy to piece together when you've lead as dynamic a life as Arthur. But _medicine? _In retrospect it really shouldn't have been that surprising that Merlin knew a thing or two since he lived with the King's physician, but still. He tried to picture his servant making a complicated diagnosis, listing off the herbs he needed and the healing techniques he'd use but all that came to him was an image of Gaius waddling around his chambers saying the same things.

Holy hell, could Merlin actually be _smart?_

No, no, no, that was against the laws of nature itself!

"Arthur?" his attention was drawn back to his suddenly concerned servant and he was precipitously aware of Gaius' prying eyes boring into him from the side, "are you alright?"

He sniffed and shook his head, "yes, yes I'm fine. Just a bit tired, perhaps." The prince could not deny seeing the somewhat amused glint pass in Merlin's eyes.

"Well," his servant stood and exchanged a glance with Gaius, "don't worry, sometime this week Gaius and I will trade places and then I'll be the one nursing you back to health."

Arthur groaned at this, lowering his head to the pillow and closing his eyes, "oh, gods help me."

But, as fate would have it, Merlin's chicken soup made the whole damn thing worth it. And maybe the side-dish of careless banter helped too. Perhaps it was just watching Merlin pass out the moment he was put on duty to watch Arthur, giving his prince a good excuse to spread paste over the side of his face.

Either way, Arthur survived his bout of the flu and it would be many years before he could admit aloud that Merlin's knack for 'arguing' was very therapeutic to a bedridden noble.

XXXX

_Thank you for the reviews, everyone. I'm also happy to see that people are interested enough to follow this little seedling-of-a-story. :) I hope this chapter was satisfactory (it wasn't manly, but the next one will be. Much whump will be dished up.)_

_Until then, _

_Cheers!_

_-FT _


	4. For Our Blood and Gory

_Rating: M (could be T)_

_Warning: Mentions of rape and abuse. Plenty of blood and cursing. (This will be more prominent in the next chapter.)_

_Summary: Merlin used to have an Uncle…_

_Disclaimer: don't own_

-Chapter 4—

For Our Blood and Gory

Merlin's heart felt light inside his chest, his magic humming softly, contentedly in his chest. The jubilant sound of his friends laughing rang clear in his ears, overwhelming the sense of wariness buried inside the mist flowing over the training grounds. He had a very high tolerance to the cold but even Merlin could not help but admit that there was a chill in the air this morning. His breath appeared before him with each exhale and his nose was a bright red. When Leon had teased him for it, Merlin had retorted accordingly;

"Hey, some of us don't get to pack it on like you guys do."

To which Arthur, who was almost halfway across the field training with Gwaine and _should not_ have heard a thing took the fat-jab almost personally.

"Well, _Mer_lin, why don't we fix that?" he'd said with that cheeky grin of his, striding over and sheathing his sword, "you could use a bit of muscle."

And that was how the raven haired drudge ended up with Arthur's pauldron clutched in one hand and a rag in the other scrubbing desperately in hopes of finishing the job before time was up and he had to serve five knights _and _Arthur for a full week.

Okay, so maybe the fat jokes were beginning to really rub his prince the wrong way.

And maybe it was a little too soon after Morgana's betrayal to make that kind of joke? The past four months had been stressful and hard on Arthur, who was beginning to take on more and more of his father's responsibilities as King. It was hard for him, knowing that the woman he'd valued as a close sister could so readily betray Uther, and by connection, Arthur as well. And watching his father slowly begin to waste away didn't make it any easier. He'd hardly seen the prince smile once that first month.

Looking at him now though, in one of his rarer moments of true, open joy Merlin couldn't help but think that things were on the mend. And with Uther's control slipping away he could almost see a brighter future glowing on the horizon, one where each day was filled with a little less tension and he could gradually begin giving Arthur the nudges he needed to accept magic.

"Come on, you're slowing down already!" the prince's voice brought Merlin back to the present and he jerked his head up to glance at the timer. The flipped hourglass provided him with a rough estimation, maybe 5 minutes.

Lancelot gave him a hearty slap on the back, the pauldron almost leaping from his hands due to the force of the good natured blow, "better hurry up Merlin, Gwaine's been complaining about his socks again." An expression of appropriate terror flew across the manservant's face and he whipped his head to look at the drunkard perched on the bench beside his.

"Can't remember the last time I had them washed," the knight grinned, "probably why they feel so squishy."

With a renewed vigor Merlin returned to his scrubbing, finishing the pauldron in record time. Practically throwing the piece aside he grabbed the gorget it was attached to and began again. This was all that was left, if he could finish this piece in time then he could forget about the looming stress of having to work for 6 people simultaneously.

The raven haired warlock would never be so thankful that he'd gotten ahead of schedule for once and _actually _polished said armor the night before. Due to that, shining these damned parts now wasn't nearly so tedious.

At least one thing was right about this; Merlin was definitely not cold anymore. His fingers were still rather close to numb and the metal was biting in his stiff grasp but the rest of his body had begun to warm up nicely.

He was just about to finish, the knights near roaring at the close call, when a familiar voice made him pause, heart leaping into his throat and magic rising in readiness. It was faint, too faint to make out the words, but he'd committed that timbre to memory long, long ago. Jerking his head up and turning it to the direction of the sound he missed the shouts of his friends as the sand ran to the bottom of the hourglass, too busy praying that his mind was playing tricks on him to notice. And yet, at the same time a small, vicious part of his mind hoped that it wasn't.

Merlin peered through the mist with a caution and rigidness to his frame that spoke little of the horrors he felt. It was thick, but not enough to keep him from scouring the opposite side of the training field. He could see other knights peppering the area, each combating their own assigned training regimen for the day. Every now and then he noticed a scurrying squire or serf but nothing much else. But that made the cloaked figure on the other side of the field, talking with one of said drudges, seem all the more suspicious. It was tall with a bow and quiver strapped to its back. The archer was too far away for Merlin to really make out the face, but he could clearly see dark hair and large hands.

Perhaps he's simply being unreasonable.

Yes, he must be; there are _plenty _of men in Camelot with dark hair and a big, tall build.

His magic shifted.

But how many carried around a bow and quiver?

Something collided with the back of his head and he immediately flinched, setting a palm over the abused section of his skull and turning an offended blue gaze upwards.

"_Really_ Merlin, would it hurt you so much to pay attention just a _little _bit?" Arthur demanded, his smile completely unaffected by the distracted, nervous air about his servant. His other knights shared the man's expression, save Lancelot, who was giving his friend one of those 'I-know-something-magical-must-be-about-and-I'm-wo rried-for-you' looks. Arthur grabbed Merlin's shoulder and bent down to a more eye-level position, "don't worry, I'm sure the knights will have _more _than enough for you to do this week."

Merlin searched his mind for some kind of retort but found none. So he glared at his prince instead and chose to shove the newly shined armor into his arms.

"I'd say this is finished enough, or does his _majesty_ need prettier, _shinier _things in order to train properly?" his heart was clearly not in the words and his attention had gone back to looking around for that strange figure again but he regretted his next words nevertheless, "Or do I need to fetch something from Morga-"

Hurt flung itself through the blonde's eyes and his smile disappeared in an instant. Various expressions of shock took form on the other knights' faces, a somber silence swooping down over them. They all knew not to break the silent rule about Morgana.

"Arthur-" Merlin immediately began to amend, turning his attention back on his friend.

But the prince simply raised a hand to silence him, a ghost in his eyes, "stop, it's alright." He shifted and grabbed his sword, yanking it out of from its sheath and not even bothering to get his armor back on, "I know you didn't mean anything by it," though his words were true his voice was subdued and the mirth in the air was gone.

Frantically trying to think of a way to amend the situation before the prince could round his personal knights up and resume training Merlin didn't notice the figure approach from behind until he spoke, "Merlin?"

Every muscle in his body tensed up and he could swear that his blood became flowing ice, that his magic had begun to boil within him for a moment trapped inside shock.

There was no mistake.

With the recognition came his wrath, memories of nights spent listening to his mother sob inside the house, becoming familiar with the meaty sound of flesh beating flesh while he waited out in the dark for it all to stop surfaced in his mind like bubbles filled with toxic gas rising out of the water. They burst at the surface and released a dry, black hatred within, making his magic grow hard and thick with tension. In the mess of memories his concern for Arthur flew back to the smallest, tiniest crevice of his mind. He could deal with the prince far more effectively later, this was happening _right now._

He twisted his upper body around to face the man slowly, movements measured, eyes filled with a malice veiled thinly by disinterest. The man that stood before him was without a doubt the same man from his memories and his appearance had changed little. Long, dark brown hair streaked with silver in some places was pulled into half a ponytail, shiny with a kind of grease that the beginning drizzle could not hope to clean. A bushy mustache tickled his upper lip and ugly sideburns tumbled down from his hairline like carpets so unclean they'd become a muddy shade of brown where they had once been a royal red. Just like his other relatives the man's cheek-bones where prominent. But Merlin had always thought they looked far sharper, as though he could cut his finger on the edges and in this moment they had never appeared more protuberant. His pasty pale face was made even more so than usual by the ankle-long, black cape he wore over his shoulders. From the muddy, haggard look of both man and cape Merlin could guess he'd been traveling for some time. And by the state of his empty quiver it had been quite a while since he'd eaten anything he hadn't killed himself too. There was a faint smell in the air that Merlin knew he was familiar enough with to name but found he cared too little about it to do so.

The man nodded politely to Arthur and his knights but did nothing else, waiting for Merlin to speak. Behind him the grass whispered lightly beneath the knights' feet and a breath passed into Arthur's lungs, signaling his 'I-have-authority' voice was about to be used.

"Capricorn." Merlin's rarely used 'I-hate-you-unconditionally' voice got to it first.

The man winced openly at his malice, Arthur's gaze switching to the back of his servant's head in surprise, and in a weak attempt to lighten the stiff mood Capricorn smiled, "come now, is that anyway to address your uncle?"

Realizing how unbridled his rage was and that the only thing restraining his magic was the parchment thin web between it and the outer world, the serf's brow twitched and he took a deep breath to calm himself, knowing his friends were watching. When his magic had been reeled in and his anger subdued, the warlock looked up at the six-foot-five archer. Blinking once he gazed into his uncle's green eyes, watching only for a moment the usually sharp and unpleasant gaze seep resignation and something else he couldn't quite place.

"Uncle," he amended grudgingly and only because he had an audience, "I'm working." _Go away. _

The smile on his relative's face became even more strained, "haven't forgiven me then, have you? Not even after sixteen years?"

The look on Merlin's face was answer enough to that question. Frowning, his uncle straightened himself a little, Merlin's silent dismissal making him wince.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," he said, suddenly serious, "but I'm afraid this is important. It's about Hunith."

Within seconds the warlock's gaze had hardened dangerously and behind him, Lancelot was sure the only thing keeping him from throwing this mysterious Uncle aside with a wall of magic was Arthur's presence. The others could read the tension in the air as well and thought it better to keep themselves quiet. There would be an opportunity to ask Merlin about it later and it was obvious by the way the knights were eying the cloaked man that they trusted him about as much as Merlin did.

Which, considering Merlin's happy, pacifist nature, made perfect sense because if _Merlin _didn't trust him then the man had to be bad.

Even Arthur was quiet.

Several heartbeats of silent thought touched the air between them as Merlin weighed his uncle's words for deception. In the end, concern for his mother won over caution and he looked back to Arthur.

"I'll only need a minute," he said.

The prince was somewhat hesitant at first but found himself in a position unable to deny the man a moment with his nephew. After all, it had only been a month ago that his own uncle, Agravaine, had come to Camelot and despite the man's good intentions Arthur had been as skeptical of him as he would be of a stranger at first. The man had been absent for most of his life and while he'd met him before it had been a _very _long time since his last visit. Yet, in this past month the kind man had been a welcome support and his advice was invaluable. It had come to a point where Arthur was almost mortified of his behavior during their first few days of working together and there was a part of his mind that hoped Merlin could find himself in a similar state should he allow his uncle to talk with him. Since the incident with Morgana the young prince had discovered his personal hatred for family feuds and even though he knew he shouldn't he found himself wanting to help these two make amends, no matter how reluctant Merlin may be. (Though, he'd never even remotely think about expressing that to anyone.)

And this was about his mother…

Pursing his lips just slightly he looked into Merlin's eyes, searching them. Finding only concern and aggression, he nodded, and said, "you can have as much time as necessary." With that said he turned around fully and waved for his men to follow him back towards their section of the training grounds. They did so reluctantly, Gwaine glancing over his shoulder with a frown in place and Lancelot's doubtful, worried gaze lingering with Merlin's reassuring one. Had he stayed perhaps the Pendragon would have noticed the way Capricorn shifted his weight and winced a second time. Maybe he would have recognized the sound that followed from within the folds of his cape.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he could have stopped destiny from what it was about to do.

But he didn't and Merlin was left alone with his terrible uncle.

For several long moments nothing happened between the two of them, no sound save the increasing rain steadily beating a rhythm around them.

Capricorn waited until his nephew stood and began to walk in the other direction. He followed after the silent man, the warlock's rage and mistrust thick in the air as they headed towards the castle. They weaved between weapon stands and skirted around knights diligently training despite the rain, feet gathering dew off the grass beneath them.

Merlin used the time he had during this simple walk to calm himself down, knowing there would be nothing to restrain him when they stopped and needing to reign in his magic. He thought of his mother and the suggested danger that loomed over her with a firm determination not to sock his _uncle _straight in the jaw with a magic encased fist.

Or maybe turn him into a rat. Or a pig.

That could wait till later.

Taking several deep breaths, feeling the cold caress his skin, the rain patter against his flesh in a methodical way, he focused on the earth's calming rhythm around him. His magic slowed and began to ebb, returning to his core where it would lie in wait for its next use.

He came to a stop outside the outer door to the armory and turned towards his uncle with a stoic expression.

"What happened?" he asked stiffly, "what's happened to my mother?"

But Capricorn simply stood there, staring his nephew up and down. He scrutinized every matured feature of the boy he'd known all those years ago and pieced him together like he was the missing piece to a beloved, although long unfinished, puzzle.

There was a look in his eye that Merlin found he couldn't quite understand, a tint that had never been there before. In his memories those emerald eyes were sharp and brazen. They were cruel and unforgiving. Very distantly, back when he was just learning to walk, he could recall Capricorn being kind. He'd stared into those green eyes and watched the joy in them glow, seen the smile of a proud father-figure light up his face. Once upon a time he'd played silly games with him, loved him like a father. But that had ground to a crashing, heartbreaking halt when he found out what this bastard of a man had been doing to his mother. The kindness he'd seen had been swept away by hatred and jealousy that even now Merlin could not understand. He knew there was nothing left of the man he'd known.

Capricorn was a cruel, abusive, _monster_ of a man.

But now there was none of that. Instead, he realized, extremely confused, that his eyes had been softened by time and they looked upon Merlin with such regret and kindness and _something else _that he was beginning to wonder if his uncle really _hadn't _changed after all.

"Look at how much you've grown up, kiddo," he whispered, almost reverently, taking a small step forward and leaning over his brother's son to get a better look. Merlin held his ground and looked up at the towering man, large enough to put a few inches over Percival.

"This has nothing to do with Hunith, does it?" he asked sourly.

His uncle was unaffected by his tone and simply provided Merlin with a small smile, "No, it does." Merlin waited for his explanation patiently and it came slowly, "I visited her, Merlin. –To say sorry!" he amended quickly when the deep cobalt blue of the serf's eyes threatened to change gold, warming and lighting up a few shades in warning. Confusion and suspicion replaced his hatred, but the archer smiled gently, chuckling in his nostalgia, "always were a little magic-twitchy, weren't you?" His nephew did not share his reminiscing and glared, prompting the archer to continue with a soft, resigned sigh, "She said she would not forgive me until I apologized to you as well."

Merlin still seemed suspicious, "she is well?"

Capricorn did not hesitate for a moment and nodded his head, "she is very well."

His brother's son analyzed him carefully, searching his eyes for any miniscule sign of deception. Finding none he nodded his head in a satisfied manner and took a step to the side, as though to rejoin his friends, "then you can leave."

Quick as a striking snake a hand grasped his wrist.

"Merlin, wait, please-"

"_I'm _not the one in need of your apologies, Capricorn. My mother is the one you need to get on your knees for." But his uncle shook his head, crazed desperation lighting in his eyes.

"No, Merlin, you're wrong. What I did to her affected you just as much, it was beyond cruel and animalistic," he reached out and grabbed his kin by the shoulders, bending down so he could keep eye contact with him and ignoring the way Merlin leaned away from him, "and not a _second _goes by that I do not spend regretting it." His breath was foul and the stench Merlin had caught from before was notably rancid now, strong and near overpowering. But the intense look in his uncle's eyes distracted every notion he had for it; the _guilt _in those eyes was so penetrating Merlin fell just a hair short of feeling it himself. "I own not the right to ask you for forgiveness and expect you to feel no such thing for a cowardly fool such as myself but at the least, allow me to explain my actions- however inappropriate they were."

He took Merlin's silence to mean that he was listening and so looked up, waiting for a maid passing beneath the eaves behind them, muttering something about 'blasted Beatrice asking for too much of us two' under her breath as she jogged towards the kitchens, to get out of earshot. When he was sure no-one was there to overhear he looked to his nephew again and taking a deep breath.

"You are aware of the dragonlords?"

Merlin nodded.

"And you are aware that Balinor was the last?"

Another nod.

"That is true. I mean to tell you, our father bequeathed his heritage to your father and passed it over me, the eldest son, because I was too weak to carry the burden. I'm sure you've noticed, Merlin, the weight of that ancient, unshakable power your body harbors now. It rests deep within you, nestled right down into your soul and it cannot be taken away. That burden would have torn my soul apart and I knew this," guilt began seeping into his soft green eyes, "yet seeing my younger brother wield such a friendship with those noble creatures made me jealous and I yearned for it. So much that I began to hate him." Shame clear in his eyes now, he let go of Merlin and the serf stepped back, watching with a new interest, "I did not help him when Uther chased him away, I left my brother to his doom and was filled with contempt for him," Merlin glared heatedly at the archer but allowed him to continue, "but then I learned he had a son and I met you." The smile on his uncle's face sent a wave of nostalgia through the warlock but it disappeared quickly, "too soon I realized that you would become the next dragonlord, finding your soul, your _magic,_" something manic and crazed flashed through the man's eyes, but it was too quick for Merlin to catch,"to be more than strong enough to take such a burden. And again I became jealous. My actions from then on are not excused by this nor do I expect your forgiveness but," Capricorn trailed off and looked at Merlin with that same, strange _something _in his eyes.

He reached out with one hand and set it upon his nephew's head, an honest smile caught on his face, "But I realize now, how precious a gift you truly are. It was wrong of me to become so petty and Merlin, I cannot tell you enough how sorry I am."

"You are forgiven."

It was as though Merlin had cast a spell; time stopped, the rain faded away, the knights, the clang of swords, it all became nothing. And Capricorn could only stare at him for a very long time.

Merlin took a deep breath and met his eyes, saying clearly, "I forgive you, Uncle."

Caught completely off guard by the very thing he'd been so sure he would never receive the archer stumbled back a step, tears welling up in his eyes. There was a clinking sound but the warlock ignored it, its peculiarity dulled by the numerous other sources of the same sound occurring around him.

Unsure of himself Merlin felt the need to fill the silence, "You are not my father, nor can you ever be. But, there was a time when I truly valued you as one, Uncle. Nothing will happen, not for a very long time, but maybe, someday, I can accept you."

Merlin barely had time to blink before he was engulfed in the archer's arms, his uncle needing to bend down to wrap his arms around the stiffened serf. He could distantly hear someone jogging over the grass from behind them, probably another maid. Unprepared for such contact, he began to struggle, his magic screaming warnings at him that he instinctively attempted to listen to. The stench from earlier was absolutely horrid now, making his hair almost wilt in the grotesque toxin. And his uncle's cloak was wet against him, seeping through his thin shirt as he held him close, grip taught and powerful. A strange buzzing sound touched his ears. He felt trapped and needed to get away, away from the man that had abused him and his mother all those years ago.

And the _smell._

Something in his brain finally clicked, this scent was something he'd often encountered with Gaius.

It was decay.

"I love you." The heartfelt words caught Merlin so off guard that he stopped struggling, submitting to the archer's embrace and listening with wide eyes as his uncle continued shakily, "I love you _so _much, Merlin. I want you to know that." Something wet dripped onto the serf's ear, rolling over the skin and falling into his neckerchief. But Merlin was too busy making other insights to notice.

That _something _he'd seen in this broken man's eyes was _love. _His uncle _loved _him.

"U-Uncle…?" unmasked nervousness and bewilderment touched his voice as he realized the abusive man was crying, shoulders quivering above him. The man sniffled and wrapped his arms around him tighter so he could pull his brother's son closer, as though afraid Merlin might disappear. Too many thoughts were running through his head, too much noise, too much concentration spent on keeping his startled magic down for him to notice the odd shift in his arms, like Capricorn was withdrawing something out of his cloak.

"I just wish," his uncle had to pause and suck in a shaky breath, "I just wish you couldn't have been born as such an _abomination_." Caught up in a moment of hope, hope that his uncle had changed, hope that maybe Merlin could have an almost proper family again blinded him. He'd let his guard down too soon. It was only a few seconds, not long at all, but it was just enough time for a longsword to be positioned behind him. Merlin registered its tip against his back just as he felt the man smile, breath ruffling his hair. "But it's okay, Merlin," he sighed and suddenly there was something manic and obsessive in his tone, "I won't let you die alone." And with time for nothing, not even a thought, the blade was pushed upward, tearing through flesh and organ with a sickening squelching sound.

At first he couldn't register anything, there was a thud against his back and another on his chest but no pain came to him. He saw the tip of the blade glittering out of his uncle's back, a beautiful, sick scarlet dripping off the end.

And then he realized the wetness on his torso had been blood, processed the wincing Capricorn made and the favoring of his left side.

His uncle had already been mortally wounded.

A fly alighted on his shoulder, buzzing and staring at Merlin like he might hold all the answers. An injured archer with no place to go, left alone in the woods for too long and bitten by insanity his dying, delusional thoughts had flipped to this. Judging by the smell it was several days old, degeneration having taken the wound and illness his sense of reason.

"Merlin," his uncle's voice was weak in his ear, the slow whisper of a dying man, "you're magic is inhuman. It is too powerful," he gasped a little and distantly the young warlock registered the sound of a blood curdling scream behind him- ah, the second maid, partner to the first, had finally arrived. "Yo-ou must not b-b-be allowed," he uncle shifted weakly, and there was the sound of someone gurgling, blood pouring out into Merlin's neckerchief, "you cannot be-a-a allowed to…liv-ve, ki-kiddo."

With the last of his strength his Uncle griped the blade a little tighter and, before yanking it out again, whispered one last, crazed thing;

"But at least we can go together."

If Merlin had not been right there he never would have heard the words, as it was everything else was muffled around him.

His body jerked harshly when the blade ripped through him a second time, back arching as it left him and taking a beady thread of his blood with it as it fell. In front of him Capricorn collapsed, dead before he even hit the grass.

Somehow, Merlin was still standing. The rain falling harder around him and creating a misty, confusing film of white that no manner of blinking could clear. Figures where racing towards him but it was too bright to make them out clearly.

And the _pain_.

Oh, _gods the pain. _

A fuzzy wall slammed into him, pricking his face and neck. It took several moments for Merlin to realize it was the ground.

His severed organs were near scalding inside of him and his magic had gone into some kind of near silent, subdued state. Yet, despite the situation and despite its near absence some part of Merlin knew that it was still there.

The rest of him was aware of only pain. Pain so obliterating that it created a new world for itself, one where he was alone, completely and utterly alone.

"_**Merlin!**_"

"Hey, come on- _come on-_ you're okay, you're okay, you're okay."

A grunting sound, a weight on his chest.

"It's gunna be alright, we'll get you patched up good as new."

"_Hellfire, _this is bad!"

Who was speaking?

"He's losing too much blood, sire!"

"Where the _bloody Hell is Percival?!_"

Percival?

"-orm Gaius!"

"Listen to me Merlin, just for once, _listen _to me and open your eyes you lazy, lay-about, useless man. Now is not the time for a blasted nap."

Ah, Arthur.

He must have work still to do.

"Open your eyes Merlin, that's an order."

With great effort the serf convinced his eyelids to flutter a little, but was unable to pull the weighted things up sufficiently. Something may have touched his cheek but with the pain through his chest and back so blinding he could hardly make it out.

Off in the distance he could hear someone saying something about being dead and wished with all his might that he could be too.

"-eady?"

Oh gods, he wanted to die so badly.

"B- are-" the words around him were falling away, "-ostle him…-uch."

"It's…-e okay, Merlin. –t's gunna be alright."

He just wanted the pain to stop.

"-ee… two-"

In a moment of impossibility and what Merlin was now convinced was hell, his agony increased. It tore through him like a savage dire wolf, kept from its savory meal for days. It instilled a flame designed by the gods themselves, unquenchable and hotter than anything the world could conjure. Tilting back his head, eyes flying open, and arching in the air he recognized the sound of screaming.

A horrible, painful sound from the distance, one that spoke of the unearthly agony a wounded man was going through. For several moments Merlin suddenly felt guilty, here he was feeling like he wanted to die when there was someone like him suffering just as much pain.

Vaguely he realized something was squeezing his shoulder, there was a soft, warm, thing cushioning the back of his head. Soothing words bleeding into his ears as a wind ruffled his hair.

Each breath was a battle he'd never wanted to face, each heartbeat rattling inside his chest and aggravating the wounds.

Desperate to keep himself distracted from the pain he tried to figure out why he was floating, why the castle walls were flying past him when he wasn't moving. Something cold, yet at the same time warm, pressed against his entire left side and swooped carefully beneath his shoulders and knees.

The clomp of booted feet beating a frantic rhythm beneath his feet.

"Merlin," the voice was back again and it took several seconds for him to recognize it as Arthur's, "Merlin, can you hear me?"

The prince's voice was breathless and when Merlin dragged his gaze toward him he could dimly see the prince bobbing up and down. In his delirium the serf could not understand why his master felt the need to dance in the corridor.

Perhaps he was drunk again and needed to be redirected to his ch- suddenly his body turned and the walls began moving in a different way. Not a different direction entirely, but at a somewhat different angle.

He sucked in a breath and instantly felt tears prick his eyes, the pain was unbearable. Was he such a horrible person that even his breathing had to cause him pain?

"That's it Merlin, you'll be alright. Just listen to me, focus on my voice." The hand beneath his head shifted, holding it up carefully and for that Merlin found himself grateful. "I've seen worse than this," no, he hadn't, "you'll be fine. I just need you to stay awake-" Merlin's eyes fluttered, "that's a bloody order, Merlin!"

A new voice joined the first, this time from above him, "we're almost there, okay Merlin? Just hold on a little longer."

"That's right Gaius will patch you up."

…

"-f you die Merlin I'll follow you to the grave-"… "-drag you back from hell" …. "-can't escape from working that easily."

…

A distant bang.

…

Shouting.

…

The sound of breaking glass, crinkle of paper, clang of metal on stone.

…

An old, familiar, wrinkled face bending over him.

…

Voices.

…

Splitting agony.

…

And the forgiving arms of darkness.

XXXX

_And finally the whump-boat arrives. My intention was for it to be one chapter but it keeps growing so I'm cutting it into two. _

_To see the alternate ending , follow the link: www dot fanfiction dot net / s/9829196/1/The-Deadly-Kinship_

_Everything up to the end is the same. Not sure why I felt the need to make it a one-shot as well but at least this way more people can enjoy it. _

_I'll try to start and finish part 2 by tomorrow night. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_Cheers!_

_-FT_


	5. His Vigil

_Rating: _M

_Warning: Way more blood and some _actual _gore and cursing._

_Disclaimer: don't own_

_Guuuuuh. Sleep, where you go? o ^ o _

_Note: I've honestly tried _really _hard to correct this buggar, but I'm honestly exhausted so doubtlessly things have escaped my notice. Please let me know if you find anything. :)_

-Chapter 5—

His Vigil

Arthur was not only the crowned prince of Camelot, but also a knight by his own right. And as such he'd seen plenty of truly terrible wounds; arm's ripped off, bones broken so badly they protruded up through the skin, cracked skulls and brain matter on shields. He'd seen plenty of people get run through by a sword as well, so much so that the sight of such wounds no longer fazed him.

What _did _faze him was the fact that Merlin _was still alive_ afterwards.

Just trying to imagine the amount of pain his servant must have been in- must _still _be in- gave him shudders just to think about.

He wasn't sure if he should be happy or miserable knowing that his best friend continued to survive even after his uncle's blade ran out his body.

And he'd even managed to stay standing! Men more than twice his build, strong, healthy knights, crumpled within seconds of receiving such a wound yet there had been his scrawny, thin-as-a-stick servant standing on his own two feet for several long seconds.

The maid's shriek caught his attention and when he'd turned his head it had been to see Merlin's uncle fall a few moments later, leaving his nephew standing there with this stunned look on his face. And because he did not fall so quickly Arthur had gotten the chance to watch blood bloom over his chest, like a rose opening up over his servant's shirt.

Lancelot had made the break for it first, sprinting across the field in record time. It was almost as though some part of him had expected this. Gwaine followed after him and the two reached Merlin just as he face-planted with the ground.

Then it was Arthur's turn and with the other knights in tow he charged towards his fallen friend. Merlin's face had been a deathly pale and the grass beneath his body was stained scarlet, Lancelot's hands already soaked with the liquid as he desperately attempted to staunch the flow from both front and back.

"What happened?" he'd managed to demand but no-one could give him an answer. After sending some spare knights off to search for any signs of suspicious persons, afraid that there were more madmen wandering the courtyards and stabbing their family members in the back, he'd turned to Elyan. "Go and inform Gaius!"

And from then on it had become a mad blur, the bustle of frantic activity making the horrible memory speed by quickly. Percival had lifted the serf, Arthur keeping his head up, and together they took off towards the only help they could get, leaving the others to clean up the mess.

Now, some immeasurable eternity later, he stood outside Gaius's chambers waiting in a tense silence with the rest of his knights. Guinevere and some others with medical knowledge were inside helping the old man and the last he'd seen of her must have been bloody _yesterday _by now.

The corridor outside the physician's chambers was somehow much darker than usual, even more so with the sound of pouring rain outside. A thick shadow had fallen upon the hall as each knight was forced to listen helplessly to the sounds of frantic shouting inside.

But that had been almost a half an hour ago now. And the near silence was far worse than the firm orders Gaius had been giving out.

Finally, the door creaked open and a maid stood in the threshold, silently watching the floor. The clanking and tinkling of armor as each knight jerked to attention made Guinevere almost flinch. She looked up at Arthur, who had just about dived in front of her, with tears pricking her eyes. At the sight of her his breath caught in his throat; gore poured down the front of her dress in the form of thick blood.

Merlin's blood.

And Arthur had to wonder just how alive a man could be after losing so much of it.

He reached towards her and grabbed the rag out of her limp hands, using it to clean the blood away from her face and fingers.

He didn't need to ask her anything.

When wonderful, strong, _brave _Guinevere broke down into a fit of silent tears he wrapped his arms around her and nodded to Lancelot, who slipped into the room without a word. He tightened his grip on her, desperate to join the knight in questioning Merlin's present state but at the same time could not tear himself away from Guinevere.

Then the maids and other serfs left the room, each one with their heads down and shoulders lowered in sorrow. The look on Gwaine's face, pulled into horror and shock, told of a waking nightmare about to come true. The resignation on Leon's face that he usually held when reporting a death-count to Arthur spoke of an inescapable loss. Elyan's expression held the words; "oh, no" written right into the frown lines around his mouth. And Percival, the gentle giant, was looking quite like a kicked puppy.

They all knew what this had to mean.

And then Gaius appeared at the door. Haggard and looking more exhausted then Arthur had ever seen him. Like Gwen, he was covered in gore. Usually when dealing with such intense wounds he would put on a surgical apron but he hadn't the time for this one and it showed. His hands and sleeves were soaked as well, though he was using a rag to wipe the blood away.

Arthur knew what the answer would be, he _knew_, but still he couldn't help himself from feeling some vague, desperate hope. With one arm still wrapped around Gwen's shoulders he took a small step towards the physician.

"How is he?" he asked, voice quiet and subdued as though afraid that even from this distance he would disturb his serf's healing.

It was a long while before Gaius could reply. A breath, a long, suffering sigh, whistled past his lips and he turned slightly back. From this angle you could see the end of Lancelot's chair as he sat watching over their friend. He turned to Arthur with a greater hunch than before, as though the world was falling apart and he was helpless to stop it.

There was a word Arthur was truly beginning to despise.

_Helpless._

Gaius looked back at him, gaze sweeping over the other knights with a grim frown.

"Gaius," the prince's voice held a touch of desperation to it and he felt like if he had to wait another second he just might go _mad_.

The physician couldn't meet his eyes, "he will not last the night, Arthur."

The voice that came from the old man's mouth was small and quiet, a heavy guilt weighing it down and it took a few seconds for the prince to understand.

"I have done all I can for him," Gaius continued, "the only thing that could help him now would be a miracle of the greatest magnum."

Even though he had expected it the words still hit him like a blow to the stomach.

Here he was, mere hours away from losing the man that had been with him right from the start and there was _nothing _he could do to stop it. The guy who followed him into every battle regardless of the risk. The servant who radiated something that made people gather around him, held a uniqueness that, try as he might, Arthur could never place. The soul brave enough to tell him off when he needed to be told off, whose advice was perhaps even more invaluable than his Uncle's.

The most loyal friend who had been there for him despite _all of it; _being poisoned, stabbed, thrown around, hit, over-worked, bruised, beaten, starved, pelted with fruit, insulted, threatened, and teased, was about to be torn away from him.

Everything they'd gone through and this is how it ended; with betrayal and horrible loss.

It suddenly felt like he was losing a brother.

Gwen bit her lip and tried so hard to muffle her sobs, Gwaine cursed loudly and punched the wall beside him. Elyan bowed his head for a moment before stepping forward and putting a hand on his sister's shoulder.

Numb, Arthur looked to him.

"I'll take care of her," the blacksmith promised and carefully led her away. The prince let him, watching the two figures move to the end of the hall and vanishing down the stairs. Blinking hard he tried to compose himself, swallowing the lump in his throat and looking to Leon.

"The knights are still checking the area for anyone else suspicious. I need you to take temporary leadership and wait for their report. Unless absolutely necessary do not disturb me."

Ever the understanding fellow, Leon nodded his head and turned, wordlessly striding down the hall.

"Percival, try to find out all you can about this Capricorn and see to it that the body is disposed of accordingly." The large man watched him silently, though Arthur wasn't paying enough attention to see the contained rage in his eyes. Oh, he'd _deal _with the body alright.

"What about his mother?" Percival may be a knight but he wasn't a brute, he knew how to compose a letter. Though he also knew very little about Merlin's family he'd overheard Gaius talking to the serf one day about his single parent. And from the stories he'd heard of Arthur's visit to his hometown she was a wonderful woman.

At the mention of Hunith the prince gave himself a moment to think.

"I'll write her a letter," he said eventually, shifting and looking to Gaius's chambers, "it's the least that I can do."

"No," said physician finally spoke up, "I'll do it." Arthur was just about to protest but Gaius beat him to it, "she will need to get it as soon as possible. Besides, it is my lack of expertise that is at fault." Swallowing again he found he could not argue; he wanted to spend as much time as he could beside Merlin.

"Gwaine-" he started.

"Don't you dare ask me to do anything, Arthur, I'm going to stay by his side too," the knight replied, almost feral.

Arthur understood his rage, if Capricorn wasn't already dead he'd run him through himself. Hell, they would _all_ have to take turns using the man as a bloody practice dummy. And it was not unknown that for Gwaine, Merlin had become his first true friend. The two acted like brothers in a way that the prince almost envied. Whenever Merlin showed up in his chambers at night smelling like booze, nighty-eight percent of the time it was because he'd had to help Gwaine stumble his way home from the tavern. And sometimes, when the serf was a little overloaded with work, he'd find the drunkard sitting beside him scrubbing at a boot, cleaning up a spill or folding Arthur's laundry right alongside the serf.

But Hunith needed to be informed.

"Then at least find a person who _will _deliver it," he sighed, already too tired to deal with the behavior. Gwaine looked like he wanted to argue but Percival put a hand on his shoulder and gave him one of those silent looks, the ones that both calmed and insisted something urgent.

And it seemed that was all he needed from the usually silent man because after a brief mental struggle he submitted, growling as he turned down the hall and stormed away.

"I'm going to come right back!" he called over his shoulder. Percival gave his prince a nod before following after.

That left Arthur alone with the physician. Another weary sigh from Gaius and he was turning to lead the way back inside the room.

"Gaius." Arthur's voice stopped him. There was a severity to his tone that implied something dangerous was about to be suggested. The hard look that had taken place in those sky-blue eyes pierced the old man, transmitted the austerity of his decision before a word could be spoken.

But the situation could not be more grave and Gaius' expression did not change.

"Yes, sire?" he asked.

Arthur took a deep breath and a single step forward, "I know how absurd this will sound but I would not be able to live with myself if there was _some _chance, no matter how grievously wrong it may be, of helping him that I ignored." Gaius replied with a raised eyebrow and prompting silence.

"Can you use magic to save him?"

The remark nearly blew Gaius off his feet and for a very long time all he could do was stare at his prince in a state of bewilderment. He'd been thinking the same thing since the moment he'd seen his ward, wondering if he could get a chance to cast a life-saving spell on him sometime throughout the night. Of course, should his idea have been successful he'd explain it off as the miracle they had all hoped for with a few extra details thrown in.

As it was, the only thing keeping him alive right now was his own magic. And from the way his internal injuries had appeared to the physician, almost inflamed to a point that would have them puffing out of his chest like some grotesque, throbbing, squishy red mass, he could tell it was putting forth a powerful effort to heal him. But the effort was instinctive and Merlin had never been very good at healing magic to begin with. Organs that by no possible right should even be able to do so were slowly restoring to a healthier state but they would take too long and Merlin would eventually bleed to death on the inside.

And of course the first thing out of his mouth was, "but sire that is illegal." Arthur nodded, setting his hands on his hips and realizing he'd left the bloodied rag with Gwen.

"I understand that," he said, "but magic has been used to heal before, has it not?"

Suddenly a little wary, Gaius nodded, "from what I am aware its uses in the healing arts are far more extensive than those in offensive ones. It has been used as a remedy for many things science cannot fix in the past."

Something akin to confusion flickered through the prince's eyes but he shook it away, "then you could find something to help him?"

"I should be able to, Arthur, but you must not forget about your father-"

"-My father will hear none of this event and I'm sure even if he did he wouldn't care for a servant," he had to pause before continuing, "least of all right now."

To his horror, Gaius seemed to hesitate, "Arthur, you must think this through-"

But the blond prince stubbornly shook his head, "no, there isn't any time for that. By the time I'm done 'thinking it through' Merlin will be dead." He took the moment of silence, the thoughtful look on the physician's face to mean he was still doubtful. "Gaius," he couldn't stop himself from begging, "_please_, he's the only friend I've got and I simply cannot bear to lose him. Not now."

And the silver haired man needed no further prompting. But before turning and going through the door he stopped and gave Arthur a hard glare, "if Uther were to find out about any of this, _Merlin _will be the one to suffer for it."

"He won't, nor will anyone else if I can help it."

Nodding his acceptance Gaius entered the room, "I'll see what I can find."

XXXX

Merlin lay supinely on the cot closest to the fire, buried beneath a couple of thin blankets. His face was pale, whiter than freshly fallen snow, and it made the dark, tired bruises over his eyes seem black by comparison. Each breath he took was small, yet still seemed to cause him great pain. Dark eyebrows met in the middle, furrowed in thick, inescapable agony. Gaius had given him all he could but any more potions would only worsen his ward's condition.

Arthur had sent Lancelot to fetch his servant some _proper _bedding, setting aside a thought to provide the physician with more comfortable furniture for his patients later. And Gwaine, with much reluctance, had rushed off to gather some herbs.

Gaius was flipping through a spell book on the table, one that Arthur did not inquire about. Rather, he urged the man to hurry up because he knew there was very little time left for his servant.

He turned his attention to the window across the room, night had fallen quickly and already the events from this morning felt so far away. His back was sore from leaning forward for so long but he didn't mind; the pain he presently felt could not even pale by comparison to the agony Merlin was experiencing. Yet again Arthur had to wonder how his servant was still alive at all.

A sigh escaped him, just one of many, and he shifted restlessly. A feeling of uselessness, twisting and curling around his heart like barbs made him feel twitchy. So he reached a hand out and gently placed it across his friend's brow, feeling for a fever.

As much as Gaius wanted to believe this was his fault Arthur knew better than to indulge him completely. It was true that if his knowledge was greater perhaps Merlin would not be in such pain, but at the very least he is able to do something for him. He may yet be able to save the dying man.

But Arthur…

There is nothing he can do for him. Further still, _Arthur _was the one who put his servant in this position. If he'd only listened to his instincts, if he'd smothered that arrogant self-soothing decision to put Merlin in a situation Arthur knew too little about to trust, perhaps this would not have happened. It was his desire to make amends where they did not deserve to be amended that had brought this upon his servant. If it was anyone's fault that this had happened it was his.

What was even worse was the feeling that, somehow, he just _knew _that if it was him on this cot Merlin would be working himself into a frenzy trying to help him. If it was him, Merlin _would_ be able to figure out a way to save him, illegal or otherwise.

And yet here Arthur sat, simply _watching _as his servant slowly and _painfully _began to waste away.

He could feel Gaius' eyes on him.

"Ah, sire," he looked up at the old man, "I will need some fresh water."

It was a piss poor excuse; he knew that the man was looking for a reason to get him to leave. But Arthur could not be happier to hear those words.

They meant that Gaius had found something.

Swallowing thickly Arthur slowly stood up and walked towards him, grabbing the bucket that was held out to him. He looked the physician in the eye carefully and said; "do whatever you can for him."

Then he left him alone with his dying ward.

XXXX

When Merlin woke up, several very long, very stressful days had passed with _way _too many close calls. A storm was raging through Camelot, keeping the messenger who was supposed to inform Hunith of the situation grounded until it passed but it was clear that no one wanted the letter to be sent at all.

They didn't want it to be necessary.

And Gaius said nothing about any kind of magic used, instead explaining the miracle as a misreading on his part. Saying that the sword had punctured his liver and no other vital organs were harmed. In reality, Gwen told him that one of Merlin's kidneys, his liver, and a lung had been punctured. The reason she had been in such a gory state had been because of all the blood Merlin had been coughing up and, Gaius suspected, because his stomach had been slightly nicked. Thankfully the other serf's had been few; two maids and one other seamstress, and none of them had been in much state to listen to what Gaius was mumbling, too busy following with what he was shouting for.

These past few days had gone by sluggishly, unbearably so. Merlin's wounds were steadily healing and the internal bleeding had stopped almost as soon as the spell had left his lips. Until the holes were properly healed, however, any kind of movement was extremely dangerous and so when the fever kicked in Gaius had begun adding sleeping drafts to the various other medications he was forcing down his unconscious ward's throat.

If there was ever a proper time for a fever to take hold of someone _now was not the bloody time_. It was torture, watching his ward squirm, quaking with cold yet burning himself fit for the sun. Gaius knew Merlin wanted blankets and a warm hearth but had to set him in farther away from the fire and apply a cold cloth to his forehead.

So the serf was reasonably delirious the first time he woke with Arthur by his side.

"A'thah," he slurred, gazing up at the noble man with his eyes a hairs-width open, the firelight reflecting in them and making his gaze appear as though covered by a film of exhaustion.

The once and future king's response to this was _perfectly _valiant and should in no way be made fun of. It was princely and befitting of a knight who had spent the past five days taking shifts beside him, waiting in a silent vigil for his serf to get better.

He nearly flipped right out of his chair in a fit of surprise.

Okay, so maybe a little less _princely. _

But, come on, aside from the agonizing-to-listen-to moans of pain and fevered nightmares not much really came out of Merlin's mouth. A few times Lancelot reported him mumbling incoherently and once Gwaine had been forced to give the serf a sleeping draft when Merlin had grown too restless. This marked the first time anything remotely coherent had passed his lips.

"Merlin!" he cried out, voice a whisper. Gaius was sleeping in a spare bed up against the wall across the room.

The serf turned his head towards his master just a little bit, head rolling on the soft pillow, pilfered off the prince's bed by Lancelot. Gaius said he appreciated the effort to make Merlin more comfortable but big, fluffy blankets were not what his ward needed and so everything but the pillow had been promptly shunned.

"Whua," the raven haired warlock began but seemed to lose focus on his question and trailed off into silence. Arthur could guess what he was asking but decided now was not the time to explain it.

"How do you feel?" he whispered slowly, knowing it would be difficult for Merlin to process what was going on.

"A'thah," his servant just slurred again, looking at him almost imploringly, "c'n aye 'ave it back?"

Arthur furrowed his brows, "can you have what back, Merlin?"

As though he'd forgotten what it was himself, the boy paused, staring at his master and breathing carefully.

"Meh family," he finally said. The words stung hard, even if they were delirious. A resounding cry of; _this is your fault! _echoed inside the young prince and he grimaced. For a long while Arthur wasn't sure how to respond, though he knew that he should say something to comfort him. Merlin had helped him so much in the past, he'd realized that now, and it was his turn to provide the moral support but…

What was he to say? This sort of thing was more Gwaine's department, even Lancelot's.

Not his.

"Merlin," he sighed, "you need to get some rest."

"Athah," his words didn't seem to even be remotely processed by the wounded man, "why's it 'urt?"

Oh, boy. This was going to be tough.

"_Mer_lin," his servant looked confused, "I'm ordering you to rest."

"Why?" well at least that was coherent.

Well…

Oh hell with it, he won't remember later anyway, "because I _need _you to get better."

Merlin didn't seem to care though, "c'n aye 'ave it b'k?"

An extended silence filled the room while Arthur tried desperately to figure out what to say in response.

Finally he just submitted, "yes, Merlin, you can have them back."

The manservant seemed to find this answer reasonable enough and gave a dopey smile, "than's Arthur."

Then he fell back asleep, leaving Arthur alone in the chambers once more.

Leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, hands folded together, chin resting against his thumbs, Arthur vowed that he would do everything he could from now on to make things right for his servant.

It was time Merlin deserved something in return.

XXXX

_Sorry it's late! I was hit in the face by a wild College!_

_And okay, so maybe three parts then. Three parts-ish? ….I'm tired. _

_Anyway, I notice I'm getting a _lot _of visits/views and a fair share of follows so I guess I'm doing something right. _

_I think, because last night I had 1.7K views and 1 review. I'm confused, I only wish to know if people are enjoying the fic or hating it with a passion. If people aren't enjoying it I can always just keep writing for myself, not posting anything. _

_Perhaps if you're enjoying it you could leave me an: O _

_And if you hate it leave me an: X_

_?_

_BAH, no one's going to do that. :)_

_Anyway, sorry for the rant, cheers!_

_-FT_


	6. Recovering

_Rating: T _

_Warning: Brief mentions of rape._

_Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Merlin._

_I'm not really comfortable with how little control I seemed to have over where this chapter went, had to rewrite it a few times too. Please let me know asap if you notice anything glaring._

-Chapter 6—

Recovering

Waking up was officially the hardest task Merlin had ever had to commit himself to.

Ever.

His chest ached, he felt unbearably hot, and the room totally refused to stop spinning.

But he was getting there. With each passing moment that he woke he became just a little bit more coherent. The first few times were awful, however, for everyone around him. He asked again and again for his family, wondering where they were and strangely asking Arthur if he could have his freedom back several times. Only Gaius knew what that one meant and it pulled at his old heartstrings like it may make them snap. Arthur had sent word out to Hunith, hoping, after Merlin had asked him for the sixth time where his father had gone off to, that she may be able to absolve the situation a little. But it was for naught as the messenger returned a few days later half frozen to death in the blizzard that had begun two days ago.

It seemed some heavenly force was trying to keep poor Merlin as far away from familial happiness as it could.

A cautious groan ripped from his throat when a particularly nasty throb threatened to expel his breakfast. At least, he told himself, he was allowed a bit of privacy back in his own room now.

"Merlin?"

Well, kind of. The door creaked open and Gaius's head peered past it, eyeing his ward for any signs of sickness. It was vital that Merlin did not allow anything that went down his throat to come back out, for more than the just the reason of keeping him from starving to death. His internal organs may be healed but Gaius wasn't willing to risk any form of tear to the still weakened man's body.

Didn't stop Merlin from feeling nauseous though.

"I'm fine," he smiled to his elder, head resting back against the pillows. He'd been unconscious for one week and delirious for the other. He done nothing but sleep, sleep, sleep, and he _still _wanted to sleep. But the nightmares…

Gaius seemed all kinds of relieved to see that Merlin was physically healing and did the best he could to help him psychologically as well. But this was something past him and his ward made it clear that he had no desire to talk about it, not even to his greatest confident.

Not _yet _anyway.

Nothing was said of it outside of; "where is Hunith? Is she okay? Gaius, where is my mother, I need to know she's alright-ow,ow,ow!"

The old man smiled at him and stepped into the room, coming to sit on the stool beside his ward's bed. Having warily closed his eyes Merlin felt rather than saw the gnarled hand feel his forehead for the fever they both knew was still there. It had gone down considerably these past few days and for that they were both grateful but despite its small level it still lingered, hindering the healing process in doing so.

After a moment Gaius leaned back and began to speak but Merlin wasn't listening. He'd been up for a while now, almost fifteen minutes, reading a book the other had lent him on healing spells. It really shouldn't have surprised Merlin to find out his magic is what saved him but it still did. Especially when Gaius insisted that his magic instinctively knew what to do, it was just that _Merlin _needed to learn how to use it properly.

And as tired as Merlin was he wanted anything _but _rest at this stage of his recovery. His dreams had been replaced by horrible nightmares, replaying over and over again what had happened. Terrors that haunted him through waking and sleeping as though it was a sin to forget the danger that had loomed over his mother even for a moment. He dreamed of each night spent in the dark, listening to the horrifying things going on this house. He dreamed of the scent of smoke and the crackle of flame as it lapped over the straw roof. He dreamed of a dark figure fleeing in the night and watching it through a tunnel vision that seemed to think it was running _towards _him and not away. But most of all he dreamed of Hunith's wailing and screaming.

No, he didn't want to rest at all.

"Is he asleep?" a new voice roused him from the near-slumber he realized he'd almost fallen victim to once again and though it was at a whisper he instantly recognized it as his prince's.

"Mm 'mm," Merlin hummed his dismissal before the physician could say otherwise. Opening his eyes he let them rest upon the uncertain noble, standing at the bottom of the stairs and looking a little awkward all by his lonesome. The first time the serf woke up and found someone seated beside him it had, quite fittingly, been Gaius to greet him. And calm him down after his latest nightmare. Apparently, Merlin had a tenacity of being almost dangerously 'magic twitchy' when fevered. Almost all week Gaius had been watching pots, vials, herbs, even things still in his hands float off around the room. Because of it he couldn't really allow Arthur or Gwaine to come in as much as either would like. (And he was also beginning to suspect the raging blizzard outside wasn't entirely natural either.)

Next had been Lancelot, someone he was as equally happy to see and thankful to know was still there for him. He'd been told that Gwaine was getting quite distressed, hearing these happy tales of Merlin waking and holding brief but at least coherent conversations with everyone but him. And secretly, so had Arthur, who had been drawn back to his duties a little more than he'd have liked.

And all the stress really showed on his face too. It showed in the shadows beneath his eyes. It showed in the lines on his around his mouth. It showed in the slumped, hunched up, defeated way he held himself. And it caused Merlin to automatically begin worrying for him.

What kind of diplomatic hell had Arthur been suffering through these past few days to look so haggard?

"Geeze," he grumbled, voice gravelly and soft with weakness, "you look even worse than I do."

Merlin was pleased to see a small smile light up the prince's face and he stepped further into the room, "heh, have you seen yourself lately?" And it was true too; the serf's face was as pale as death and sweat shimmered over his brow. The bruises beneath his eyes were thick and his head lolled back against the pillows as though he didn't have the strength to keep it up himself. A book lay open across his lap and Arthur recognized the image of yarrow drawn over the page in ink; ah, so Gaius was making him read herbology books.* One hand was wedged between the pages to keep his place, the other limp beside him.

Gaius reached out and gently took the book away, Merlin allowing him to do so with very little protest. It seemed that any small movement caused his serf some form of discomfort and he was trying to move as little as possible because of it. Commiseration passed through his eyes when he once again realized the extent of Merlin's pain.

Arthur had never met a man who had survived such a mortal wound- hence why it was considered _mortal. _He wondered, though, if that made him selfish to be happy Merlin had become the only man he knew to do so.

He certainly seemed to have a knack for that, didn't he? Surviving, that is.

Merlin gave him a wry smile and Arthur smiled back, happy to finally see his friend lucid again. And call him selfish for this but he really just couldn't help himself.

With an imploring look sent Gaius's way he nodded his head toward the stool the old man sat on, "may I?"

He was immediately given a concerned version of The Eyebrow before Gaius turned his eyes back on Merlin, "I'm not sure if now is a good time-" he began.

"I'm fine, Gaius," Merlin interrupted, "I keep telling you that."

The physician huffed, "and I'll believe that when pigs begin flying _without _any magical persuasion."

A small grimace tightened the prince's face for a moment, he really couldn't be so selfish about this right now, Merlin was clearly exhausted. He'd simply have to ask Gaius to send for him the next time he woke, again. No doubt there was a servant looking around his room to tell him that Merlin had woken right now, one that he'd missed on his way here from the council chambers. He moved to speak but before he could get a word out of his mouth, his manservant beat him to it.

"I'll be _fine, _Gaius, please," as tired as his serf appeared it startled the prince to see how insistent he was being. With a disbelieving look on his face, the physician glanced between the two for a moment before he sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

"Alright, alright, but only for a few minutes," he breathed and from the disapproving look on his face, compared with the relief on Merlin's, Arthur had to wonder if his serf's nightmares had gotten worse.

Taking Gaius's seat beside his wounded serf Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, looking the weakened man up and down.

"Would you stop that already?" Merlin asked, "I feel like one of those buck's you hunt so obsessively."

Arthur scoffed, "I'd say you look the part but you're far too along to be worth a good chase." The grin on Merlin's face did not falter but his prince easily saw the look of pain flash through his eyes. When his friend made no retort the blond looked away, suddenly serious, "Merlin, how are you _really _feeling?" His serf opened his mouth but couldn't get a word out before his friend continued, "and I don't just mean physically."

The warlock's response was a moment of silence and a sobering smile. A surprisingly lucid gaze peered into Arthur's with something almost akin to suspicion. He felt like he was being analyzed, taken apart piece by piece, from the very _soul _outwards. There were times when this gaze of Merlin's set him on edge and it was reasonably so. In mere seconds his servant could go from the clumsy fool to the wizened, battle-scarred man he saw before him now.

Arthur understood, a little grimly, why there were times Merlin seemed so much more experienced than he did. In fact, from the way the man had behaved it hadn't seemed Morgana's betrayal surprised him one bit.

For someone his age Merlin was far too knowledgeable.

"I'm f-"

"And Lords, Merlin, if you say you're fine to me I swear I'll give you so much work to do your bloody back will break."

His manservant paused, doubt and confusion in his eyes.

"I don't know what else to say," and with the weakness of the past few weeks heavy in his voice his drudge seemed so much smaller than usual.

Arthur didn't like it, "well, _Mer_lin, there _are_ other words in the world for you to use, you know."

Merlin frowned at him, obviously trying to think of another way to say; "I'm fine."

Eventually he gave up, and Arthur broke the silence; "alright, look, no matter what you tell me I _know _you're not fine. And, honestly Merlin, all I care about is you coming back to work with a stable mind," at this Merlin raised a disbelieving eyebrow but allowed him to continue, "whatever it was that happened between you and your uncle, I want you to know that," here he trailed off and looked away. Swallowing thickly he forced down his pride and looked his weakened friend in the eyes, "I want you to know that while the knights might not be related by blood, we are, in a delusional, dysfunctional, _ridiculous_ way, a family of our own accord." Subdued he looked at Merlin, stared into his confused, cobalt eyes and past the sickly false bravado to the man hurting beneath it all, "and I want you to know that you're a part of that."

When he was done, Merlin stared at him. Long and hard and Arthur could almost feel his face warm with a blush. But as mortified as he was these words _needed _to be said and they _needed _to be said by him. No jokes could be made either because he wanted Merlin to know that he was serious and that he-_they_ were all there for him should he want to talk.

Because, by god, when Morgana had betrayed them he had needed someone to talk to too. Without Merlin there to share the weight Arthur wondered how well he would have handled the truth. And at least he hadn't literally been stabbed in the back!

Finally Merlin spoke, "if that's really how you feel…?"

Arthur nodded, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and shifting to a more comfortable position, "It is."

It was obvious that Merlin was uncomfortable with the situation and there was a selfish part of Arthur that felt upset by it, like the man did not trust him despite everything they had gone through up to this point.

But then the warlock looked away, his gaze on the high window across his little room and a hand fisted in the sheets.

"For a few moments I believed Capricorn had changed," he grimaced, "he flew off on some ridiculous rant on how he was sorry for what he had done to my mother and despite everything; using her as a tool to satisfy himself, threatening us, and even burning our house after almost _killing _her," the fist in the sheets tightened considerably and Arthur watched with his breath held in his lungs the dark rage that passed through his usually docile servant's eyes, "I was foolish enough to believe that he had changed." He lowered his head and heaved a gentle sigh, releasing the sheets but still unable to meet his prince's eyes, "please understand that it is not myself I am worried for, Arthur, it is my mother." This time Merlin did look to the prince and he could see pain both physical and mental reflected in those eyes, "Capricorn told me he visited her, before he cut me down-" it was disturbing how easily those words slid off his servant's tongue, "-he said he'd visited the house and 'asked her for forgiveness'."

Arthur understood his servant's worries but still did not believe that he was fine and it hurt to see that his friend wouldn't tell him the truth of how he felt.

"I've been trying to send someone to Ealdor but no-one can reach it in this blizzard. Once it is safe, you have my word, Merlin, I'll send Percival and Elyan out to see if she is alright and to tell her of what's happened."

At this Merlin very nearly shot up out of bed, only stopping because of the pain that exploded across his chest, "No!" he gasped, Arthur's hands on his shoulders to keep him down, "no, don't tell her what's happened."

"Merlin, how can I not?" he demanded, "once she sees knights of Camelot in the village she'll know that something happened," sure that Merlin wasn't going to try and jump out of bed again he sat back on his stool.

"Then have them go in disguise!"

"_Mer_lin-"

"_Please _Arthur, I cannot have her worrying about me." He was begging, Arthur knew he was begging. Yet- "_please_."

"Alright!" he cried in submission, "I'll have them go in bloody disguise! For gods sake, Merlin, you look like a kicked puppy."

Seeming to realize the same thing his servant scowled at him, forcing himself not to sigh in relief, and the insult rolled off his lips without flaw, "better than a drunken bear."

"Mm," Arthur held out his hands, palms facing the ceiling, "I don't know, "he gestured to one hand with a slight raise, "bear verses," he gestured to the other, "puppy. You really sure you're not still delirious, Merlin?"

"Merlin," Gaius's voice interrupted and the old man stepped in through the door with a vile in hand. At the sight of the horrible thing Merlin nearly groaned, but it was for the pain so he didn't protest. The physician gave his ward The Eyebrow and handed him the tonic, watching as the warlock uncorked it and with only a moment's pause, downed the whole thing. Arthur watched sympathetically; he knew well how horrible those things tended to taste. Nodding his approval Gaius gave the prince a quick glance and he waddled down the steps without another word.

His steadily declining servant gave a tired smile, head pressed back into the pillows once more and eyelids drooping, "You're right, I must be delirious; _you _are being nice to me, after all. I'll have to ask Gaius what he put in that tonic earlier," he clamped his jaw shut suddenly and Arthur felt worry slide back into place, monitoring the way his friend's muscles clenched. "Oh, that was _not _a pain killer," he groaned through his teeth. When Merlin opened his eyes again, having never realized they had been closed, he noticed through a blurry haze the worry etched in his friend's face and suddenly remembered something.

Through the thickness of sleep and fever a face peered down at him from above. It was covered by a blanket that made his vision incredibly fuzzy but the distinct lines of worry marred it, soft blue eyes staring at him with obvious guilt and high levels of concern.

Exhausted by the conversation he'd just had Merlin smiled, dopey in his state of rapidly approaching unconsciousness, and said, "baw, you _do _care."

Arthur scoffed, "of course I care, or are you too much of an idiot to even figure _that _out?" he asked seriously. Merlin just smiled.

"Gwaine's going to get mad," he warned his prince.

But the blond just waved it off, "He'll just have to wait his turn."

It was clear now that the only thing keeping his best friend awake was a bit of luck and a prayer. Drowsily, the young serf scanned his master's face as though he was once again looking for something and Arthur suddenly found himself dreading the next words to come from his mouth.

"Thank you Arthur, you're a good friend yourself."

For a while the prince sat in stunned silence and fought against the urge to deny it now that he could be sure Merlin wasn't _dying _anymore but he realized that even if he did, only Gaius would hear him.

His serf had collapsed back into exhaustion again, leaving his prince with the sound of a fire crackling in the hearth, the grinding of a pestle in a mortar, and the lonely moan of wind out in the cold. Arthur resigned himself to another silent vigil, glad for the time he'd so far had with his servant lucid.

Suddenly the door blew open and Gwaine threw himself into the room, "I heard he was awake!"

Almost as though he'd been expecting it Gaius immediately shushed him.

And like that the touching moment ended

XXXX

*_yes, yes, _herbology _is a simple, silly play of words. This thing does not actually exist. :P_

_I was hit in the face with a carnivorous writers block this time. ;_; *writhes* _

_Anyway, *looks at reviews* okay, so, the answer here could not be more clear. o.o_

_I _would _like to just make my warning known that due to college reasons there will be those terrifyingly long spaces between updates sometimes. You know, the ones that make your readers try to chew you out and I have to hide in my closet for fear of them. When it comes to drabbles I always pick them back up, sometimes I just, sadly, have to make people wait. And, come on, I'm attending two schools right now, homework is doubtlessly going to pick up sooner or later._

_Thank you so much for all the reviews, guys! I'll answer all of them! (just as soon as I finish this quesadilla. ._.) _

_Cheers!_

_-FT_

* * *

NOTICE: _Got into a car crash a few days ago. No new updates for a long while. Sorry._

_Cheers._


End file.
